Shaheen

From a bus or car you’d not notice the Falcon – a carved stone Victorian decoration on the gate post of what was once a mansion house (probably for the railway manager of nearby Clapham Junction way back when). It sits now almost entirely shrouded in the foliage of the unruly trees around it, its squat, broad shoulders and details of the face etched away by rain and pollution. Even so, there it sits as a reminder of the proud heritage it surveys; the lane beyond retaining the name ‘Falcon Mews’. I notice it passing by at street level, a blackbird watching it gingerly from a nearby branch. Even this stone falcon, this representation of the Arab ‘shaheen’ retains some powerful aspect of a living original. It’s in the eyes still, those acute organs that even here, though grey and unmoving, seem to be able to spot the tiniest detail, to follow the multitude of living things passing on the street before it in their buses and cars and decide for itself which one shall be its prey. As if to prove my flight of fancy, the blackbird scurries off sounding its rapid alarm. The falcon of course remains unmoved. After all, it has all the time in the world.

NB 'shaheen' is an Arabic word for a falcon

London, 17/5/07